


Puzzle Piece

by tiigi



Series: Pull Me Apart [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Kinda, M/M, OOC, Referenced racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: “Tell me again why I have to go to this thing?” Patrick follows him, falling into a seat and raking his hands through his hair. Almost on instinct, Richie leans over and smooths it down again.“Because I invited you,” Richie tells him.
Relationships: Patrick Hockstetter/Richie Tozier
Series: Pull Me Apart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736953
Comments: 38
Kudos: 100





	Puzzle Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore how out of character this is I just needed some fluff :’)

Richie swings by Patrick’s house at just past three in the afternoon. It’s getting dark already and there’s a chill to the air that Richie foolishly didn’t prepare for. He’ll steal one of Patrick’s hoodies when he gets inside but for now, standing on his doorstep and shivering so hard his teeth chatter, Richie’s mood is quickly going south. 

He bangs on the door again and stands back to wait. They have about half an hour before they have to be at Bill’s house and even if Patrick drives, it’s looking like they’ll be late. That’s not a great impression to give when his friends are already so disapproving of Patrick, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

“Alright, alright,” Patrick’s voice is muffled and irritated behind the door. Despite himself, Richie feels a tug in his chest and a smile playing at his lips. Patrick probably only just woke up.

“Open the door, asshole,” Richie calls, giving it another kick for good measure. “We’re gonna be late because of you.”

“Good,” Patrick says. When he finally opens the door, Richie is unsurprised to see that he’s only dressed in a pair of sweatpants and his hair is sticking up in odd directions. He definitely just got out of bed. Richie barges past him and heads for the kitchen; if he has to wait for Patrick to get ready then he needs at least one cup of coffee.

“Tell me again why I have to go to this thing?” Patrick follows him, falling into a seat and raking his hands through his hair. Almost on instinct, Richie leans over and smooths it down again.

“Because I invited you,” Richie tells him. 

“Your friends don’t like me.”

“You don’t like them either.” Richie points out. “Besides, Stan’s bringing his girlfriend. Why shouldn’t I be able to bring you?”

“I hate to break it to you, Tozier,” Patrick steals the mug of coffee out of Richie’s hands and takes a sip. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

Richie scowls. “You’re not my boyfriend either,” he says. “But you’re coming to this party. You  _ promised.”  _

Patrick groans and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. Richie knows that he’s won because he knows that Patrick gets frustrated in the face of immutable evidence, and because he tends to keep his promises. “I hate you and I’m going to hate this.” He says, not a threat so much as a warning. “All your loser friends will be pissed that I’m there. They’ll probably get annoyed at you because of me.”

“If you can believe it, they’ve all promised to be on their very best behaviour. So now I just need you to do the same,” Richie plonks himself down in Patrick’s lap and catches Patrick’s bottom lip between his teeth. His next words come out muffled and quiet. “And it’ll be fine. Okay?”

Patrick scowls. His hands come to rest on Richie’s ass, fingers digging into the flesh so hard that there will probably be bruises there by tomorrow. Then he rolls his eyes and tips Richie off his lap so that he lands in an undignified sprawl on the kitchen floor.

“Yes, sir,” he says sarcastically.

“Save it for the bedroom,” Richie says. “And  _ go get dressed.” _

***

They show up late to the party.

Technically, it’s not a party. It’s not supposed to be, at least, because even now Bill wants to keep things lowkey. Beverly and Ben probably showed up together - which would have been difficult for Bill, as much as he’d hate to admit it - and Eddie will have shown up with Stan because, despite being Jewish, he’s the only one of the group Sonia Kaspbrack trusts enough to be sensible. Mike will have met up with them on the way there because Sonia isn’t ready to leap into the twenty-first century just yet.

They will all have arrived already and they’re probably in there right now talking about how Richie is bringing the resident psychopath to eat birthday cake with them and they probably–

Probably nothing, Richie thinks with finality. They probably aren’t talking about Richie at all. They’re probably celebrating Bill’s birthday like they do every year; the only difference this time is that Stan has invited Patty, and Richie has invited Patrick. He just hopes they can all get on.

“Remember what I said.” Richie smooths down the front of his t-shirt, and then reaches over to do the same to Patrick’s for good measure. “No threatening anyone, no making fun of them and–”

“And no hitting. How many fucking times are you gonna say it?” Patrick slaps Richie’s hand away. “Jesus, relax, would you? Make a fucking joke or something. I don’t like this mother hen version of you, you’re creeping me out.”

“I’m just making sure you remember the  _ promise  _ we made.”

“That I can’t beat the shit out of you but your friends are free real estate?” This earns him another jab to the ribs.

“Your contract expired on that one,” Richie says. “I mean the one you made this morning, where you said you’d repent your wicked ways and commit to a life of purity.”

Patrick sneers. “You wish, bitch,” he says, and the door swings open just as he’s forcing his hand into Richie’s. Richie startles as though he’s been caught doing something bad, and he has to steel himself against doing something embarrassing like yanking his hand out of Patrick’s. Beverly stands in front of them; she grins when she sees Richie, and it’s a pleasant surprise to see that her smile only dims a little when it’s turned on Patrick.

“You guys took forever,” she says by way of a greeting. “We were taking bets on what held you up.”

That’s… marginally better than what Richie had been imagining.

“What did you bet?” Patrick asks, taking both of them by surprise. Beverly only takes a moment to recover.

“Do you even have to ask?” She smirks. Richie pokes his tongue against his cheek just to make her laugh.

“You know it,” he says. So what if it isn’t the truth– he wants Beverly to win.

Her laughter quiets as she disappears down the hallway, and Richie closes the front door behind them as they follow her inside. The others are already gathered in the living room, Ben and Bev huddled up on one side of the couch with Stan and Patty on the other. The others are laid out on the floor in front of the TV, flicking mindlessly through channels. 

“Wow,” Patrick leans down to whisper in Richie’s ear. “You guys really know how to party.”

“If you think this is wild you should see us on a Saturday night.” Richie replies, stepping forward to dump his rucksack on the floor at Bill’s feet. Bill jumps, surprised, and then breaks into a smile when he sees Richie. 

“Fucking f-finally!” He says, standing up just to wrap Richie in a hug. He doesn’t acknowledge Patrick, but maybe that’s better than the alternative at this point. “You better have bought your own snacks because we’ve eaten most of this stuff already.”

Sure enough, there are food wrappers and empty chip packets scattered all over the floor. There’s also only one seat left: the armchair over in the corner, big enough for one person to sit on and have a great view of the TV. Richie and Patrick exchange a brief, competitive glance before they both make a mad rush for it at the exact same time. Patrick, because he’s a cheater with freaky long legs, gets there first.

“Asshole,” Richie complains.

“What do you mean?” Patrick pats his thighs. “I saved you the best seat in the house.” Richie snorts with laughter and moves forward an inch, only to remember where he is and, more importantly, who he’s with. He looks around at his friends hesitantly, wanting to join Patrick on the armchair however much of an asshole he is, but not quite feeling comfortable to do so. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Eddie huffs suddenly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Just sit on his lap already.”

There’s a beat of silence before Patrick snickers, and Richie follows suit and even Beverly joins in a little. Patty looks between everyone with a confused smile, but the others just look vaguely uncomfortable.  _ Fuck it,  _ Richie decides, and sits on Patrick’s lap. He has to manoeuvre his legs so they’re slung over the arm of the chair, just dangling in front of Eddie’s face. Some things are just meant to be.

“Oh, gross, stop it.” Eddie scowls, flicking Richie’s ankle to get him to go away. To be honest, Richie is a little preoccupied all of a sudden with how Patrick’s hand is creeping up his thigh. He hadn’t thought to put this on the list of promises for Patrick to make, but how was Richie supposed to know that he’d make a move at Bill’s birthday party?

Okay, he should probably have expected it. Patrick would make a move anywhere with no regard for the consequences, and Richie can definitely feel Patrick’s cock getting hard under him. Still, he doesn’t think this is his fault.

“Dude,” Richie whispers. “Stop– they’ll see.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Patrick replies out loud. “You’ve literally had my dick in your mouth.” There’s a resounding groan from everybody else in the room and even Richie has to admit that that was too far - even if it did make him smile. 

“Do you guys need a minute?” Bev asks, peering around Ben to get a better look at them. Richie is ninety nine percent sure she  _ isn’t  _ suggesting they go and have sex in the bathroom, but it’s that remaining one percent that has him jumping off Patrick’s lap and lingering in the middle of the room for a few seconds as he thinks of an excuse.

“I gotta piss,” Richie blurts out. “Start the movie without me, I won’t be long.” He gives Patrick a lingering, meaningful look and leaves the room to the sound of Beverly’s laughter. Once he’s safely locked himself inside the bathroom where he no longer needs to tug his t-shirt down to hide his erection, he retrieves his phone and sends Patrick a message.

_ ‘I hate you so much come to the upstairs bathroom’ _

Patrick sees it within seconds, and the three dots show up straight away.

_ ‘I literally have no clue where the bathroom is in this house.’ _

_ ‘THEN FUCKING FIND IT ALREADY IM DYING UP HERE!!!’ _

Maybe he’s being melodramatic, but seeing Patrick like that, sprawled out in an armchair at Richie’s best friend’s birthday party… it has him thinking all sorts of thoughts. Maybe the two worlds actually can meld. Patrick hasn’t been a dick to any of Richie’s friends since he punched Henry in the face, and sure, maybe he still hangs out with his old crew but he also hangs out with the Losers Club now, and that has to count for something.

Sure, maybe Patrick doesn’t like to be called ‘boyfriend’, but at least now he holds Richie’s hand. 

Richie is seriously considering yelling down the stairs just to get Patrick to hurry up when there’s a quiet scratching at the door. Richie freezes, creeped out and still turned on, a horrible combination. Did Bill get a cat or something? It isn’t like he can just open the door and check, what with his dick tenting his jeans like it is.

“Um,” Richie blinks. “Hello?”

“Are you gonna let me in or not?” Is Patrick’s reply. Richie grinds his teeth together and rips the door open so quickly that Patrick almost falls inside.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you knock like a normal person?” Richie asks, already shutting the door behind Patrick and slipping his hands underneath Patrick’s t-shirt. 

“More fun this way,” Patrick mumbles against Richie’s lips. “You get scared. It’s hot.”

“Psycho.” Patrick doesn’t deign reply to that. Instead, his fingers fumble with the zip of his jeans and his hands settle heavily on Richie’s shoulders, urging him to his knees. The bathroom floor is cold even through Richie’s jeans but Patrick’s hands are warm, fingers carding roughly through his hair.

“We don’t have long, Tozier,” he says, voice turned low and rough with arousal. “You gonna suck me off or not?” 

Richie takes that as a challenge. Patrick laughs at the way Richie tenses with determination, but his laugh trails off into a moan when Richie seals his lips over the head of Patrick’s cock. Even though he’s done this too many times to count by now, it still takes him by surprise: how strong of an aphrodisiac it is, how his senses are invaded by Patrick. He bobs his head a little faster and hollows his cheeks and sucks, tasting bitter precome on his tongue from where Patrick is already getting wet.

Patrick groans and his head falls back against the bathroom door with a heavy  _ thunk  _ that will definitely attract attention if their joint absence hasn’t already been noticed. Richie pinched the skin of Patrick’s hip between two fingers but he doesn’t seem to notice at all.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “You were born to do this, I can tell. You’ve got the fucking mouth for it.” Richie’s confusion must show on his face, even with his mouth stuffed full of Patrick’s dick, because Patrick laughs breathlessly and his fingers trace Richie’s lips. “You’ve got a cocksucking mouth, sweetheart. You talk a lot but really you’re just looking for someone to shut you up, aren’t you?” He accompanies the words with a sudden, unexpected thrust that has Richie gagging and pulling off. He’s so hard that his eyes are tearing up and he can’t help but grind the heel of his palm against his cock; he moans at the first contact, far too loud to be conspicuous.

“Jesus,” Patrick hisses. “You really do need someone to shut you up, don’t you?” Applying pressure to the back of Richie’s neck, Patrick feeds his dick back into Richie’s mouth until Richie’s nose is pressed against Patrick’s pubic hair. “You’re such a needy little bitch.”

Richie scrapes his teeth ever so slightly against Patrick’s cock, the only retaliation he can manage at the moment. Patrick’s chest shudders and his hips jerk forward and then he’s coming over Richie’s tongue and it’s disgusting but Richie stays where he is until Patrick has finished. Patrick watches Richie with hooded eyes as he unzips his own pants and reaches inside– he can’t even be bothered to get his dick out, just strokes himself hard and fast until he comes as well, hunched over, biting his fist to muffle his cry. He sits back on his heels as Patrick tidied himself up. 

After a few minutes of companionable silence, where Richie attempts to catch his breath and Patrick apparently just watches him do it like a creep, Richie gets to his feet. His knees ache from kneeling on the floor for so long but the pain will fade in a day or two and then they’ll have the embarrassingly hot memories of their birthday bathroom escapade to reminisce over. Richie can already see himself making a terrible joke about it and Patrick keeping his hand over Richie’s mouth as they fuck, just to keep him quiet.

“We really should join the others,” Richie says, even though it’s he himself that’s taking the longest. 

Patrick shrugs. “Okay,” he says easily. “But I’m pretty sure some of them have been listening outside the door this whole time.”

Richie freezes. His breathing actually stops. For one brief, tense moment, there’s utter silence. Then–

“We weren’t  _ listening _ !” It’s Bev. Of course it is. “We  _ overheard _ . You guys were being way too loud for us not to.” She has a point.

Ben’s awkward, “Sorry!” confirms it. Richie knows there’s no way that Ben ‘Haystack’ Hanscome would use this opportunity to perve on Patrick Hockstetter.

“They won’t let me forget this, you know,” Richie glowers at Patrick. He just smiles his irritating, innocent, smarmy smile.

“Hey, you summoned  _ me,  _ remember?” He taps his pocket where his phone lies, holding the evidence. Richie flushes warm, and the blush only gets worse when Patrick throws an arm around his shoulders and draws him close. “Aw, relax Tozier,” he says, voice dripping with faux sweetness. “I know it isn’t your fault I’m so irresistible.”

Gagging noises from the other side of the door carry inside, and honestly, Richie could not agree more. “Let’s just try and get through this party without any other weird, embarrassing incident. Alright?” Richie demands.

“Fat chance,” Patrick replies, but he’s smiling, and he takes Richie’s hand in his own without a second thought when Richie offers it.

Maybe, Richie thinks, somehow, they can make it work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
